Tag: OMV

She’s Got You

Work at home Friday, after I run some errands and take care of some things this morning. I have to go to the OMV to get a real ID (driver’s license expires Sunday), and since I am going over there, I am going to swing by the West Bank Petco to look at kitties (the SPCA has some they’ve farmed out to Petcos). That’s an exciting morning, isn’t it? I am taking Kelly J. Ford’s The Hunt with me, so I won’t be bored and since I have to sit around and wait, I might as well read. It’s been bothering me lately that my attention span just hasn’t been there for novels since the heat wave broke me several weeks ago–which is when I switched over to short stories in the Alfred Hitchcock Presents anthologies–and I’d like to get this book read before I leave for Bouchercon, primarily so I can hopelessly fanboy over her all weekend (I’ll also be fanboying over Margot Douaihy all weekend, too, among many others as I always do at Bouchercon). I’ve already picked out my books to take with me on the trip (the latest S. A. Cosby, Alison Gaylin, and Laura Lippman will be going to San Diego with me, with Donna Andrews batting clean up), and also already know I will probably get no writing done while I am there. I don’t really have anything due–there will be page proofs for Mississippi River Mischief to go over at some point–but everything else is up in the air for now.

I did manage to get the edits taken care of on Mississippi River Mischief and turned it in last night, so other than the afore-mentioned page proofing, it’s effectively finished. Since the other book–I’ll post about it this weekend, no worries–is also finished and now out of my hair, I have nothing pressing at the moment. Woo-hoo! I also picked up the mail and stopped at Fresh Market to lay in supplies for a weekend of not getting into the car at all. I wrote for a while, and came to a realization about this short story I could never get to work that I’ve been revising, so I am going to go into author mode and talk about writing, so bear with me.

This particular story, “Whim of the Wind.” was the story I wrote when I took creative writing again after switching universities after my first horrendous creative writing experience (if I haven’t said it enough, the professor told me I’d never be a published writer). This story was beloved by my class and my professor, who told me I should submit it to literary magazines. I did a few times, it was always rejected, and there was a slight flaw in the story–but no one who read it could ever give me any insight into how to fix the story. It was also my first Alabama story, my first visit to my fictional Corinth county, and so it’s always kind of been precious to me. I never could figure out how to revise it or what to do with it…but as I’ve been revising it (it’s now twice as long as it was, and I’ve not finished), it’s been changing some. I think what everyone was responding to was the voice–I’ve used it again since, and people always respond to that aspect–and really, as long as the voice is intact and preserved, that’s all that really matters. I also realized last night something else–I was having to change the climactic scene in the story, and as such had to come up with a different Civil War legend to build it around–and I realized this story, along with two other, had been written using the same trope, that I have since learned was apocryphal–the evil Yankee deserter. I wrote this story using it, I wrote “Ruins” using it, and I wrote another, “Lilacs in the Rain,” also using it (that story has morphed into a novella renamed “The Scent of Lilacs in the Rain”); so yes, I wrote three short stories based on the same, apocryphal, Civil War urban (rural?) legend. Bury Me in Shadows evolved out of “Ruins,” and I blew up the trope in that book; that was the “Yankee deserter” story I was meant to write. So, the other two need different legends, and I found a good one for “Whim of the Wind”–but again, a delicate subject I’ll need to be very careful with–and now maybe I can make “The Scent of Lilacs in the Rain” actually work, now that I know what I need to do with it. I am also having a lot of fun looking into Alabama history and finding these great legends and stories and folk tales that I should be able to find something to use.

I slept really well last night, and feel pretty good this morning. Don’t feel so great about having to go to the West Bank, but that’s okay; it’s a routine change I can live with, and I can actually do my weekend grocery shopping over there as well–and I can get Five Guys to bring home for lunch. I think after that I will have laid in enough supplies to not have to leave the house for the rest of the weekend–I may go get the mail tomorrow–and I want to clean, organize, read, and write all weekend. Paul got home late last night (another grant) so we didn’t get a chance to watch anything last night–he walked in while I was watching a Youtube documentary about the usurpation of the English throne by the House of Lancaster that set the dangerous precedent (for kings) that incompetent ones could be overthrown and replaced…and eventually led to the Wars of the Roses. I also was watching some videos–someone did a series of the greatest plays in LSU football history, which was very fun to watch and relive (I really should do an in-depth post about my love of LSU football; not that everyone who’s paying attention doesn’t already know about it, of course, but I love football and it’s fun for me to write/talk about it. I also find the fandom interesting, too.)..and they were grouped by stretches of time, eras, if you will (2007 season got its own video)–and also guided by the scarcity of available digitized video from the far distant past. (I was also thinking “don’t the networks that originally aired the games have tape? Can’t it be digitally remastered? I know the SEC Network has done this with some classic games from the past; it’s a project the NCAA should back fully, as it’s the history of the sport.) It’s very fun to revisit past games and my memories–LSU is never boring to watch, ever–and I am very excited about the upcoming season, both for LSU and the Saints. I worry that everyone is over-hyping LSU (something I always worry about) but given the over-performance from last year, it’s kind of understandable, really. LSU came out of nowhere to win ten games, beat Alabama, and beat both Florida and Auburn on the road in the same season for the first time in program history. So, yeah, understandable. I was thinking before last season that it was going to have to be a wash–new coach, rebuilding after two down years, etc.–and that this year would be the one where the Tigers would make a run. I am excited for our new quarterback for the Saints, too–he, like me, also went to Fresno State, so I have even more reason to root for him and like him–and they seem to be doing well in the preseason. GEAUX SAINTS!

I did work on the revision of “Whim of the Wind” yesterday–it’s amazing to me that I’ve taken a story that barely over two thousand words and added another almost three thousand to it, and it still isn’t done–but I am feeling good about the story, now that I’ve recognized my attachment to it that actually was hindering me from revising it. It’ll always exist in that original version, after all, and nothing I do to it in current or future versions are ruining that precious first version that meant so much to me as an aspiring writer. Sentimentality–the very thing I am always trying to guard against when it comes to almost everything in my life–got the best of me with this story. The other story I turned it at the same time, which I’ve also never been able to correct, perhaps now I can fix it, too. I had thought about expanding the other one (which is actually incredibly problematic on many levels by modern standards) into a novel, and perhaps I still will; I’ve started slowly world-building around the panhandle of Florida the same way I have with Corinth County in Alabama, but there’s no crime or mystery or supernatural thing going on in that story; so it would be a coming-of-age romance….but I may know a way (that just came to me) and there were some other ideas about it, too. You never know, right? Why not riff for a while and see what comes up?

I’m kind of getting excited about writing again, can you tell?

And on that note, I should start getting ready for the OMV and get that hellish experience over with once and for all. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader and you never know–I may be back later.

I’m Just a Country Boy

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. I have a lot to get done over the weekend–errands and chores and things, oh my! I’ve arranged for medical appointments and examinations, have gathered everything I need for the OMV, and I even spent a little time writing yesterday. Who am I, and what have I done with Gregalicious?

I slept better on Tuesday night than the previous nights, and it felt great. I didn’t feel tired or worn out or dragged out–and of course, while it was still fucking hot here, it was normal August hot, not Satan’s taint hot. I can handle normal August hot. Sure, I’ll complain, but if this summer thus far has proven anything to me, it’s that I’ll be grateful for a regular Louisiana summer from now on. Yesterday was a good day at work as well; I feel like I helped some people and was able to be a good listener for some others who needed to get some things worked through. I love my job because I get to feel like I’ve made a difference in someone’s life, and there’s always at least one client per day who makes me feel that way. It’s a good feeling. I know I am helping everyone I see, but the ones where you have to go a bit deeper than is usually necessary are really special for me. That’s what I really needed from a job all along, and if I didn’t find that out until I was in my forties, at least I finally did find out. I’ve been at my day job longer than any job I’ve had previously, and by the time I retire at sixty-seven (roast in hell for all eternity, Ronald Reagan) I will have worked there longer than I worked at all my other jobs combined. (I’m not counting writing or editing in this, by the way; those are contract jobs, not a regular paycheck with benefits, which also includes fitness instruction. No benefits nor regular paycheck there, either.)

I also loved being a personal trainer because I enjoyed helping people feel better–so much of fitness training is mental, and reshaping mindsets and attitudes and mentalities, you have no idea. I used to actually write a syndicated queer-specific fitness column, which took a holistic approach to fitness and well-being, and so sometimes I would get into the mental health/self-image stuff. I always wanted to write a holistic health and fitness book targeted to a queer audience, but the performance aspect of promoting a health and fitness book wasn’t anything I was interested in; it would mean staying in shape constantly, watching everything that I put into my mouth and limiting myself, cutting out alcohol., and above all else, quitting smoking. Once I got myself back into shape, in 1994 and then again in 2001 (after that Horrible Year That We Never Discuss), I gradually became less obsessed about the regimen I needed to maintain to continue to work toward underwear model-type body and decided I was okay with a slight roll around the middle, and not having a six pack, or veins bulging out from under the skin everywhere. Fitness instruction, and fitness writing, weren’t my passion though; I wanted to be a fiction writer and I didn’t want to use my discipline and self-control and will to push myself into trying to compete for dollars and eyes and influence in the fitness world–I wanted to use that to write the best fiction I could and get it published so people could read it.

I was also thinking that I might want to think about doing something to mark Scotty’s turning twenty-one next year (I honestly cannot believe I’ve been writing this series this long. It was supposed to a stand alone!) I am thinking I should probably write another Scotty book, so the tenth will come out during his twenty-first year of existence, but I am not quite sure what I want to do with the boys next. I have some titles and possibilities–French Quarter Flambeaux about a Mardi Gras murderer; Quarter Quarantine Quadrille which of course takes place during the quarantine; and Bywater Bohemia Bougie, which would be a long look at real estate, gentrification, and how New Orleans has lost some of its soul since Katrina. I probably should write a Scotty every year. But I don’t want him or the series to get stale; that’s what happened with Chanse and I’d originally planned to only do seven, and I was on book seven so I said, fine, we’ll end it here. I do think there are more Chanse novellas to be written at some point; I think the shorter form will force me out of the “paint by numbers” way I was feeling with that series by the end. (For the record, I think the last two books of the series are just as strong, if not stronger, than the books that came before them. The quality wasn’t slipping, but the challenge of writing them wasn’t there anymore.)

The last thing I want to feel when I’m writing something is bored. Sick of it is one thing and is perfectly acceptable to feel; by the time you’re doing the page proofs you should be so fucking sick of your book and those characters that you don’t ever want to think about them again….and the time between turning in those final corrections and the release/promotion is just long enough of a time to pass so you don’t want to slit your wrists when the subject of the book comes up. I have yet to feel boredom with writing Scotty; the fact that the stories can be insanely ridiculous and completely over-the-top helps a lot in that regard. And yet…I’ve noticed things, looking back at the older books in the series, while I was writing Mississippi River Mischief, that I need to pay more attention to in the future. A reader asked me, sometime after the release of Royal Street Reveillon, “how many car accidents has Scotty been in?” And when I started thinking about it….was like yeeesh, quite a few–to the point where I probably wouldn’t get into the same car with him. I noticed that there are books where Frank and Colin’s presence is so minimal that they aren’t even supporting characters but rather cameos; and I don’t use Scotty’s family nearly as much in the later books as I did in the earlier ones. So, when I write the next Scottys, going into them I am going to be more conscious of these things, and I am going to try to work them out organically through the manuscript. Scotty’s getting older, as are the others (my editor was very enthusiastic about how much she loved that Scotty ages in real time), and I’ve started addressing that. I do think the next case is going to have to heavily involve Scotty’s family; I’m thinking it’s about time his sister Rain took center stage in one of his cases. I love Scotty’s entire family, to be honest, and I am really glad I brought his best friend David–missing from the last four or so books–back into this one.

As you can probably tell, I was a bit concerned about my editor’s response to this one. Someone who has anxiety to the degree I do probably shouldn’t be a fiction writer, but it’s too late now, over forty novels in. But….it’s never too late to enter a new chapter of my career, either.

I slept great again last night–the slight cooling off this week has been marvelous; the air conditioning finally caught up, and I was laughing last night because I was taking some stuff out to the recycling and realized…it was chilly enough in the apartment for me to wear a sweatshirt and sweatpants (which means the temperature inside is correct), and when I was walking the stuff out I didn’t break a sweat and thought it was actually pleasant outside…and it was 94. Today I have to get through, run some errands on the way home (post office mostly–I can’t decide about the grocery store but I don’t think we need anything; I have developed the habit of making groceries whenever I get the mail since I’m already uptown) and then settle in for the night. Paul was late last night working on a grant, so when he got home we watched the first episode of Only Murders in the Building, which was a very pleasant surprise (we weren’t wild about season two, but season three got off to a great start, and of course, Meryl Streep!), and finished the evening off with an episode of Awkwafina is Nora from Queens, which is just hysterically funny. It’s nice to feel rested before the last day of getting up early and going into the office.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later.

My Way

Work at home Friday! Huzzah! Huzzah!

I received an invitation code the other day from a friend for Blue Sky, one of the new upstarts looking to replace the dumpster fire hellhole that is Twitter, and so yesterday I set up the account. I am also on Threads. On Blue Sky I am @scottynola, just like I am on Twitter, but on Threads I am @gregh121. I probably should have been consistent across the three platforms, but why would I start making things easier for people to find me now, twenty years into my career? But I posted on both Facebook and Twitter that I was there–and Twitter locked my account. Yes, the Muskrat is all about free speech, isn’t he?

Honestly. But Twitter becomes more and more of a shit-show with every passing day, and it’s not like it was ever a great place to be for long, anyway. I’d go on there, scroll through, have some fun and/or funny interactions with friends and acquaintances…and then inevitably it would turn horrific and I could feel the bile rising within myself as I read more and started to reply angrily…before deleting and closing the app. I wonder what future historians (if there are any future historians) will write and think about this era? What will they debate about, what will they think the truth was and how will it all wind up being reported? How harshly will we all be judged?

That’s a rather chilling thought on Morning 4, 432, 172 of an excessive heat advisory day here in New Orleans. I had thought and planned to go to the OMV today and get my real ID at long last, but I cannot find one item that I need…which Paul keeps so I won’t lose it and yet I was able to put my hands rather easily on all of the other things I need. The irony of this is not lost on me. I also am kind of glad of an excuse to not go outside today, in all honesty. It’s going to “feel like” up to 120 every day over the weekend, and I’d really rather not. It was miserable coming home from work yesterday, and I had to run a couple of errands as well. Dreadful. Just leaving my backpack in the car during those brief intervals at the stops I made was enough for my laptop to be hot to the touch when I got it inside. I think I have to make at least one grocery run this weekend, but I don’t know when I want to attempt it and go out into that. Paul’s coming home sometime on Saturday, and it would probably make the most sense to wait until he’s home, maybe? I don’t know, really. My brain is sort of on the fritz these days from the heat (yes, Greg, it’s recent and it’s the heat, whatever helps you get through it) but I had a great breakthrough last night on the WIP, and realized what absolutely is missing from the manuscript. So, hopefully after completing today’s homework duties (seriously, why haven’t I been calling it that all along instead of work-at-home? Embarrassment because it sounds like being a kid again? It’s work I do at home that’s more easily and efficiently done here than at the office, so homework), I’ll be able to dig into the book and get this important piece of the voice into the book. I also know where it’s heading in this first act, and I kind of have an idea for the middle for a change. That’s always satisfying; those a-ha moments are always so satisfying that it’s almost like having an orgasm; I want a cigarette immediately after, LOL.

But the finishing touches on the apartment are being done today, and I have to say having the walls back together on the first floor is amazing. I always forget how lovely this apartment is when, well, things are the way they are supposed to be. It’s an old house, and things go wrong and leaks occur and so on, and we generally tend to not complain about things…so they tend to not get the attention they need when we would prefer that to occur. But with the walls taken care of, with new plaster where it had damaged and then being painted over to match at last, it looks lovely in the living room and kitchen (I’d forgotten about that patch of white paint up in the corner by the ceiling; but it now matches) and now I no longer have any excuse for not cleaning and keeping the apartment up, which primarily was the defeat of “oh because of the damaged walls it will always look slovenly in here no matter what else I do” which turned into a multi-year slide. Had the walls been redone just before the shut down, I could have really used that time at home to clean the fuck out of this place. But the shutdown came with a malaise–depression, undoubtedly–and so nothing ever really got done.

I slept really well last night–woke up at five, again at six, and stayed in bed until seven–and now am enjoying my coffee and finishing this up. Sam the handyman has already come by to check in; I told him I’d be moving upstairs with my laptop and he has free rein on the downstairs. I need to start the cleaning upstairs anyway, and so if I am up there working when I take a break I can go clean something. There’s a television with Apple TV as well, so there’s literally no reason why I can’t get things done with music playing through the television. I’ve already started redoing the upstairs in bits and pieces. Tonight when I am finished with everything I think I will start watching this new reboot of The Real Housewives of New York. I’m kind of burning out on reality television, which has fascinated me for almost two solid decades now, so it would be nice to see a new, interesting take on these shows. (Hell, I even wrote a book around them.) I still have to get caught up on this season of Superman and Lois, but I am experiencing quite a bit of super-hero burnout lately, which is why I am enjoying the animated My Adventures with Superman so much–it’s optimistic and the doom and gloom and darkness so endlessly in supply for the DC Universe movies (thanks to The Dark Knight series) isn’t fun to watch.

And on that note, I am going to get a cup of coffee and head upstairs. Happy Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow. Or later–one never can be sure.

Daytime Friends

We made it to Wednesday, Constant Reader! Can you believe it? I barely can. And yet here we are, at the crest of the week and ready to head downhill into the weekend, in which Paul comes home. Huzzah! Huzzah! I have to say I am rather proud of myself. Despite being alone–which isn’t a regular occurrence in the Lost Apartment–I’ve managed. I’ve only gotten bored a couple of times, and the loneliness isn’t pronounced; it’s there, but not in the forefront of my mind and it’s just kind of there. I was actually thinking the other night (morbidly) you know, I could probably handle the living alone thing if and when it comes to that. Not something I want to happen any time soon, mind you–and I certainly have no desire for it, but I kind of get it where my dad is coming from. Obviously, being alone in the house, given that Mom died earlier this year and how much Dad is going through, is of course going to make me think about being alone and living alone and having to go on alone. I’ve thought about this before–any number of times over the years, especially every time Paul’s had to undergo surgery of some kind–which is morbid, yes, but realistic. We’re at the age where we have to start recognizing that we aren’t immortal–my aching and sore body reminds me of that fact every damned day, thank you very much–and start planning. Wills and so forth, legal protections, potentially even getting married because of Louisiana’s insane inheritance laws. (Thank you, research for A Streetcar Named Murder.)

I also have to get my driver’s license renewed, and I may as well get one of those Real ID things while I am at it, since the deadline for getting one is next May and since I have to go to the OMV anyway, I may as well get this done. What a royal pain in the ass this is, I might add; I’ll have to find my birth certificate or my passport (which is probably useless as it is most likely expired since we went to Toronto several years ago), and some other things. Aggravating, yes, but in a worst case scenario I won’t be able to find my birth certificate and my passport will have expired, so I will need to wait for Paul to get home because he knows where they are kept (I do not; I lose things so Paul is always in charge of important things–but I’ve not managed to lose the title to my car!). Ah, a trip to the West Bank. Which means Sonic for lunch! Huzzah!

It seriously doesn’t take much to please me.

I should have looked for things last night when I got home from work but I was drained. When I got into the car the temperature outside was about 102, and by the time I’d driven home through the nightmare that is the Central Business District after four thirty in the afternoon, I was a bit worn down so wound up taking the evening off. Literally. I didn’t do a fucking thing last night (I wrote about 150 words on chapter five of the WIP) and went through my journals. I meant to read a short story, but I dozed off in my chair around eight, and finally staggered up to bed sometime between nine and ten. I do not understand why last evening turned out the way it did, but I also slept really well last night and feel very rested and together today. (I think it was primarily being drained from clients yesterday, we were busier than usual–a good thing; I’d prefer we had a full schedule–and I’ve grown unused to that much human interaction, so it made me tired.) I am not going to lambaste myself over not getting much accomplished last night; part of my “be kinder to yourself” goal of this year is to accept that I am not superhuman and will occasionally be tired, worn out, unable to work and thus need rest instead. I do not have to continue the pace of productivity I set for myself when I was younger and had more energy.

I think tonight when I get home, after I do some chores–seriously, how does one person mess up so many dishes and laundry–I’ll write for a bit and then try to get caught up on Superman and Lois, which means going back to the first episode of this season and rewatching, because I don’t remember what is going on this season. I know they replaced the actor playing Jonathan Kent, which I wasn’t thrilled about (but should give the new actor a chance; I was unimpressed with the new actor), or maybe start the third season of Titans, which I had also started and gave up after a few episodes. I mean, I love me some super-heroes, but I’m also starting to get a little burned out on them. I probably won’t watch any more Marvel movies, and I am beginning to get a bit bored with the DC movies, too. I do want to watch the next season of Loki, and I do like Superman and Lois…but it’s all starting to feel a little stale to me. Maybe I should go get caught up on my comics reading? We stopped watching both Arrow and The Flash because every episode of Arrow started to feel the same and the fight scenes became repetitive; with The Flash, it was because how many times can one person go back in time to change the past and fuck everything up for the present and then keeps doing it?

I don’t like my super-heroes to be that stupid, frankly. It’s a shame, too, because I’ve always loved the character and Grant Gustin is terrific in the part. Ah, well.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day. Constant Reader!